Also, I recently discovered The Pen Addict podcast, which if you get it, you’ll get it.
These flats I would’ve never chosen on my own, but I tried them on at the suggestion of Sidney at The Little Shoe Store and I fell in love with them. They’re going to be fun to pair with tights and shorts. Sure I will do it with all black, but I think it’d be just as good with a burgundy sweater, saffron tights and brown shorts.
A friend wore that orange on her toes and I loved it so much! I have to stare at my hands all day at work and it really made me happy to see the orange while cutting and sewing. I forced a co-worker to look at them and properly ooh-and-aah over them. It’s really important to share good things with others, even if it’s to a dude who doesn’t get it.
Of course given my job, it’s sort of pointless to do my nails as they will immediately chip the second they see a needle. But I saw some Elle magazine insert about how to make a manicure last for a week with creative ways to cover up tip wear and such. So after one day of work, I covered the messy tips with the light turquoise, which made them even better. (I just used scotch tape to mask off the parts of the nails I didn’t want painted… of course that tape pulled off a bit of orange on my pinky finger).
The color combinations remind me of one of my favorite New Yorker covers!
The dessert itself was bright and subtly sweet. It was a chamomile ice cream (so. incredibly. smooth. Does that mean it’s actually a gelato?) with a strawberry reduction and olive oil. My friends and I agreed the restaurant needs to sell these in pints. I’m not usually a huge fan of olive oil in sweets — it just tastes so… olive oily — but they chose an oil that really did taste fruity and light.
But the second dessert was my favorite by a tiny margin. It was a yogurt with buckwheat crunchies (or as the menu called it, “yogurt, grains, seeds.” Again, sad raw vegan restaurant). There’s also no photo because I heard the waiter say “buckwheat” and I just dove right in. I prefer crunchy things and the crunchies reminded me puffed buckwheat cereals my brothers and I would snack on as kids.
And somehow my friend’s husband ate his steak so that his plate ended up looking like some calligraphic painting. (Although, Rachel, now I see the crocodile you saw, eating the man.)
*Unless it’s a steak from a cow that was grass-fed watered with the tears of newborn babies, like they are in Finland.